


Leather

by Russica



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Greg is a flirt, Leather, M/M, Motorcycles, Mycroft Being Mycroft, Pre first dates, Sherlock is a Mess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-01
Updated: 2018-07-01
Packaged: 2019-05-31 14:39:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15121592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Russica/pseuds/Russica
Summary: A ficlet for #silverfoxsaturday that ran away from me. Greg has a motorcycle and Mycroft can appreciate leather.





	Leather

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone, this is just a ficlet that was a tad too long for tumblr. It'll be posted to my page there, Russica if anyone is interested.
> 
> Enjoy

Sherlock lay draped over the sofa in 221B, his eyes firmly locked onto the ceiling. Across from him sat, not his lovely John, but his annoying elder brother. An abysmal point in his already bleak morning. First, John had been called in to surgery to assist with a flu epidemic, then his latest experiment had exploded in his face -literally- and he'd been forced to scrap the entire thing, and now... he rolled his eyes over to his brother sitting in John's chair. He was looking as casual as he could considering the three piece straight jacket and constant stick up his massive arse. He checked his phone yet again, 22 minutes since his last text. ETA: 3 minutes. The rumble of a motorcycle on the street made him hum, he must have sped then. Always something. Mycroft glanced towards the window while Sherlock looked to the door. Heavy footsteps on the stairwell; 3, 2, 1.

"Sherlock! Came as quick as I could," Greg Lestrade panted as he threw open the door.

"Ah Graham, perfect timing."

Mycroft's gaze shifted to the man in the doorway and his heart, what little there was of it, stopped. Greg stood in the doorway, wide eyed, wearing a black and brown two-toned leather jacket, weathered brown leather pants, black boots and black gloves, all capped off with a sleek black helmet held in his hand.

"What the hell Sherlock? You said there was trouble," Greg scowled as he came in and threw the helmet on the sofa. "Need help. Come now. Then nothing, you tosser."

"I do need help" he sat up in one fluid movement. "I want you to arrest this man for trespassing."

Sherlock waved a hand and Greg finally took in the other man. He raised his eyebrows then smiled as he moved to shake his hand. Mycroft extended his own automatically.

"Greg-" he glared at Sherlock. "-Lestrade."

"Mycroft Holmes."

"We meet at last!" He laughed as he pulled his hand back. "I never thought I'd get to put a face to the voice."

"How do you know him?" Sherlock frowned.

"Oh, we've been chatting for years."

"Years."

"Yeah, need to trade Sherlock stories with someone and before John, Mycroft was the only one who would understand."

Mycroft smiled pleasantly as he rolled his eyes back to Sherlock. "I only wish I could have been there to push you back in the Thames, brother dear."

Sherlock's face pinched in disgust and annoyance.

"Oh, did I send you the one with him and John covered in jam?"

Though his face didn't change Sherlock could see the amusement in his brothers face. "I don't believe you did, Gregory."

"Christ, hang on" he chuckled as he slipped off a glove and retrieved his phone.

Sherlock glared at his brother but... something was off. Wrong. He quirked an eyebrow. Mycroft gave him a look.

_What?_

_Something changed._

_Don't be daft._

_You look wrong._

Mycroft scoffed. Sherlock flicked his eyes to Greg as he swiped through his phone.

_It's something to do with George._

_You are reaching brother mine._

Sherlock squinted. "Gabe."

"Greg, Sherlock. It's Greg," he huffed. "Check your phone Mycroft."

Mycroft pulled his own phone out and grinned at the picture. Sherlock made another face.

"We sprayed em off with a hose at the Yard" Greg laughed loudly. "Sally has a video, I'll get you a copy."

"Delightful."

"Excuse me?!" Sherlock shrieked at the same time.

"Now, if you're done wasting my time. I had planned to enjoy a ride on my day off." He waved a hand at his body.

Sherlock took in the outfit. "Is that what you're doing?" "

You think I wear leather for fun?" Sherlock opened his mouth but Greg held up a hand.

"I take that back, I don't wear _this_ leather for fun." He shot Mycroft a wink as he picked up his helmet.

Mycroft and Sherlock both went various shades of red, Mycroft from sheer embarrassment and Sherlock from a mix of indignation and by proxy embarrassment.

"Sherlock. Don't text me." Greg sighed as he tucked his helmet under his arm. "Mycroft, give me a ring sometime. I'll take you for a ride, yeah?"

Mycroft just gaped as Greg turned and left the flat. The door clicked shut and Sherlock blinked while Mycroft finally forced his mouth shut.

"I am disgusted by you both."

"I need a helmet."

They looked to one another. Sherlock gagged as he threw himself back on the couch, pointedly not looking at Mycroft.

Mycroft most assuredly did not run down the stairs to get a look at Greg's bike. Of course not, he always walked that fast. Greg sat on his bike, a sleek black with gleaming chrome, and slipped his phone into his pocket. He glanced up and smiled at the man.

"Fancy seeing you here Mr. Holmes"

"Yes, well, you'll find I often frequent Baker Street, Detective Inspector."

Greg grinned. "You ever ride before?"

"Afraid not," Mycroft's smiled slightly. "Never really a reason to."

"Well if you wanna come ride, you'll need a set of leathers." Greg's eyes swept up his body and Mycroft felt a heat creeping up under his collar as he maintained an iron clad grip on his umbrella. "Rummage through your closet for some denim at least."

Greg's eyes twinkled with mirth as Mycroft looked affronted. "I'm sure I don't-"

"I could help out, got an extra set or two, but you'd have to try them on for me yeah? Wouldn't want you uncomfortable."

"Oh." _Oh. Oh dear lord. This is exactly why he hadn't wanted to meet the charismatic man._

"Interested?"

For a moment the bravado wavered and Mycroft reminded himself that Greg Lestrade, above all, is a kind and understanding man. Though his leather had brought with it a certain charm and roguish air, Greg was still the same man underneath.

Mycroft took him in properly. The leathers he wore were old but properly tended, his bike was clean and shone in the weak sunlight but was by no means new, Greg looked more at home than Mycroft could even begin to pretend to understand. His face was kind and open, inviting Mycroft to take a risk. Invite him home. Not a stranger, not after all the years of conversations and favors and failures and friendship. Mycroft stuttered as he realized he considered Greg a friend. A close one at that. Close enough that...

"While your offer is quite tempting, I'm afraid I'm needed back at the office." Mycroft took in the slight disappointment then overwhelming joy in the smile flashed his way.

"That's not a never."

Mycroft smiled. "Most assuredly. If you are free however, I could make up for the delay with dinner tonight."

"Oh. Oh that'd be brilliant."

Mycroft would gladly invite Greg out to any and everything he could think of if he was graced with that dazzling smile again.

Greg glanced down at his helmet, still smiling. "I'll see you tonight then Mycroft."

"I look forward to it."

Greg slid the helmet on smoothly and started his bike. Before driving off he pressed a gloved hand to where his mouth hid behind the thick helmet and sent a kiss towards the posh man watching him. Mycroft was reeling inside as Greg drove off. Leather was clearly a bad influence on the man. He would have to see to it that his wardrobe was appropriately stocked.


End file.
